


There's Only So Much Teasing A Man Can Take

by theprincessed



Series: Love, Sex and Magic: Random Ficlets [9]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:46:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall has a breaking point and he’s heading straight for the culprit to make. Louis. stop. teasing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Only So Much Teasing A Man Can Take

**Author's Note:**

> The rating is high because of the obvious and because Niall uses the C-word. You have been warned.

Apparently Niall _does_ have a breaking point after all.

The thought pops into Louis’ head the minute he’s over his shock and he guesses he shouldn’t really feel that either because this was actually entirely of his own making. He finally has the answer he’s been recklessly prodding for all tour – Niall is just a regular guy with regular needs and warm blood running through his veins and when you’re on tour that blood is far less discerning about where it wants to go.

Of course, he could’ve passed it all off as a joke. They’re young, it happens, but ill-timed erections shouldn’t really be an excuse now. The first time maybe, as a reaction to an insistently placed hand here, an impish grope there, but following a string of venues and a catalogue of hip grinding, clumsy playfights and blatant touching, Niall has seemingly had enough. Louis’ last little outing with his micstand on their moving platform was perhaps the last straw. He had an inkling that a push of his hips so close to the metal might be too much as he caught Niall’s eye, head already turned his way as Liam leaned in for a little sing ‘n’ touch.

Louis hadn’t known then exactly _how_ much was too much, but he certainly knows now, shoved down onto the inexplicable big bed at the back of the tourbus. The shutter is across so no one can see a thing but the other boys are obviously on board and another thrill rockets up his spine because of the unknown. He giggles slightly with his face pressed into the mattress, still high on performing and high on having his curiosity finally sated, even though the warmth of Niall’s hand spread out across the back of his neck is anything but funny.

“Stop laughin’,” he hears, probably shaking his head in disbelief, “you’ve been doin’ it all night, teasin’ me,”

Louis feels the smugness rise up inside. “All tour, actually.” 

“Fuck,” Niall groans like it pains him, “I know, you fuckin’ bastard! You want – you wanna fuck, is that it? You’re not subtle, mate,”

Louis’ voice gets stuck in his throat as Niall rocks forward on his toes, pushing hard against his arse, their bodies still completely fully clothed. “Good.” he gasps, “Don’ need to be wi’ my boys around.”

The palm holding his neck down squeezes. Another hip roll, this one more aggressive than the last. The bed stays still in its nailed confines, unlike a normal bed at all, but at least the sheets are soft and Louis wriggles into the feeling, unwittingly close to Niall’s other hand as it flits near his jeans.

“Are you gonna - ?” he pants, suddenly desperate to know that too.

“Guess.” he laughs.

Except Louis doesn’t need to as pale, calloused fingertips take a second to pet at his belly then down to seek out the shape of him over his jeans. An embarrassingly needy whimper falls out from the back of his throat and closed lips as his shifting around and bodily taunting has built up a nice semi for him to rut more into the mattress, but now Niall’s hand is in the way. Driven slightly loopy by sensation, he does the unthinkable and pushes into the light, tentative touch, biting the sheets to stop his moan even as Niall snatches his hand back like he’s been shocked. Louis’ shocked too as Niall’s grip on him changes, palm flattening out on the crown of his head and firm where he’s radiating heat like a furnace, newly sweaty. At the same time, he feels a smack to his lower back, uncoordinated in the split-second decision to react but still obvious. He gasps anyway and wriggles, free to search for friction.

“Stop,” It sounds like a plea as Louis thinks _no, no, don’t stop, not stopping, please_ , “gonna make me...”

“Yeah, shit, Niall – want you to, _c’mon_ ,”

He forces his hands underneath his body to open his jeans and then round to push them down a bit from the top of his arse, boxers on display as Niall presses down on his head and reaches to help. Fingers so light but so close to how they usually touch him when he’s in such a position, he mutters a definite “please,” as Niall rocks into the back of his thigh, flesh suddenly exposed. He wonders whether his jeans just slipped, but is confused because they’re usually too fitting to drop more than a bunched inch unaided before his expression clears. He inhales a sharp breath and sure enough there’s another slap to his skin but this one is accurate and quick and stings beautifully.

“Dirty fucker,” Niall cackles - honest to god, _cackles_ – and Louis ready to retort snappily when he becomes aware that he’s already touching himself, hand on actual cock.

The angle is cramped and awkward so Louis unthinkingly arches his back to try and make more room until there’s a strangled noise behind him and suddenly less pressure on his head as Niall straightens up. His hips stutter forward and he grasps for purchase on Louis’, digging in until he squirms from the ache. They collide together and Louis makes another breathy sound as something solid and familiar fits between his legs. Niall builds a rhythm that means Louis doesn’t even have to move his hand, aware of it catching dryly on his dick until there’s a pattern of hits to his arse, precome slicking his fingers as he twists his grip on the upstroke. He imagines his skin glowing pink beneath but it’s not enough to know, he wants it to be seen, and feels Niall squeeze his hip as he clumsily reaches behind and plucks at the waistband – white today – to pull it down. He hears an emphatic “fuck, Lou,” and smiles shakily to himself as his knuckles knock into Niall’s as he tries to get off.

He’s still surprised when, encouraged by his actions, Niall pulls his ankles off the floor to get properly on the bed and falls on top of him in an ungainly sprawl, naked from the waist down. Louis wants to be smart and make a quip but he’s also well versed in where things like this leads and he wants that more than a joke, so he bites his mouth to swallow it down. There’s friction on his wanking hand and friction on his arse from Niall rubbing up all over the places he’s spanked raw and alive, pain and anticipation mingling to shift his arm back and land fingertips on Niall’s fuzzy, thin thigh.

“How did a skinny cunt like me end up here?” He slips down so that his cock slides dangerously close and it’s a no-go area like this, like now, but Louis still relaxes as he just keeps on mindlessly thrusting onto his skin, never pushing the limit. “Oh my fuck, you feel so good,”

Ego boosted, Louis clenches around nothing anyway, his stomach just as tight as he pushes his legs together and decreases the space Niall can fuck into enough that they both can’t help a grateful moan.

“Got me pinned, should teach me a lesson, keep me arse to my – to myself,” his voice cracks as Niall takes that to mean another spank and he feels the shiver down the whole length of his spine, insides jumping, “Oh! Oh yeah, just like that, babe, so fuckin’ perfect,”

He bears down to trap his erection against the bed and curved towards his belly, wet smears everywhere in between, and gets his arms underneath him, biceps flexing obscenely as he lifts his upper body and twists to get a hand on Niall, legs falling open again to accomodate. It feels distressingly too much like a bendy yoga move he’s not stretched for but is kinda worth it as Niall’s jaw drops upon the contact and his eyes close as he fucks into Louis’ fist instead, slim hips in a frenzy to chase orgasm. 

“Can – can I come on you?” he pants as Louis works him roughly, “Quick, ngh, answer me, Lou,”

“yeah, yes, fuck, do it,” he chants carelessly.

Niall takes over at the last hurdle, knows exactly what will get the job done. Louis thinks about moving onto his back to watch but his arse protests the idea and his hole clenches as Niall’s thumb drops to wetly circle the skin, putting pressure where he’s most sensitive. His face is buried in the bed without a physical order to obey and the tip of Niall’s thumb tucks into him when the first warm pulse of come splatters his heated skin. Grunting as he wrings himself dry of every last drop, Niall eventually falls off Louis’ thighs and to the side. He immediately starts to laugh. Louis shifts his face to blink open one suspicious eye.

“I look a mess now, don’t I?” he says flatly, already knowing the truth.

His white t-shirt is rolled up and stuck to his shoulderblades, his arse hanging out of his underwear, pink and sticky and what is covering his cock is wet with his own come. Niall’s face is as ruddy as his feels, blue eyes sparkling bright but at least he’s not _messy_.

“I regret saying you could,” Louis decides, grumbling.

“Serves you right, dude,” Niall sighs, grinning, “The arse on you.”

His expression goes a little soft around the edges, folding into one of the hero-worship smiles Louis thought he’d never see again since they found themselves with much more in common and much more on equal ground. They’ve grown up, he realises, and swallows a sudden stupid lump as Niall reaches to touch him gently. He moves away before he can, rolling onto his side but still facing Niall on his back, his body cooling rapidly.

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” he croaks, with a small smile.

Niall gives him this smirk like he knows Louis just avoided being a great big sap and luckily changes the subject.

“Right, come on,” he claps, “I’m fuckin’ starved!”

Louis winces at the none-too-gentle swat to his bum but starts a giggle of his own as Niall clambers off the bed and disappears without another word, easy as that. Same old Niall.


End file.
